One more hour
by Ruthless
Summary: FINALLY COMPLETE! As Harry enters the final stages of a plan to kill himself someone races against the clock to find him. Can they find and pull Harry back from the edge? Please R and R.
1. Chapter 1: One More Hour

**ONE MORE HOUR**

_The preacher talked at me and he smiled.  
Said come walk with me, and we'll walk one more mile.  
Now for once in your life you're alone, but you ain't got a damn,  
There's no time for the phone.  
I just got to get a message to you._

Harry looked up at Ron and forced himself to focus on the redhead's voice, "So should we try to find Hermione before bed, mate?"

"No thanks," Harry shook his head. He knew what had to be done, and had been putting it off for long enough. It wasn't worth taking the risk anymore.

As Ron left the room for bed Harry threw his dad's old invisibility cloak over his shoulders and left through the portrait hole.

Tonight, at midnight, he was going to do it.

_Hold on, hold on._

Severus walked into his store cupboard and disbelief crossed his face. At one glance he could see that multiple ingredients were missing.

It had been probably about three weeks since he had last needed to come in here, and the first name that came to mind was, of course Potter.

It wasn't that he hated the boy, he just didn't like, or trust for that matter, the similarities between Potter's childhood and what he himself went through.

Not that Severus actually believed the stories he heard of abuse but sometimes a whisper did manage to turn his head.

Forcing himself to register what he was doing, Severus scanned the missing ingredients and a doubt of Potter's guilt began to niggle in his mind.

The only way these things could be used together were in a few very strong poisons.

As Severus stood there going over the potions, amounts and how long it took to brew them an idea occurred to him and he began to run, faster then he ever had before.

_One more hour and my life will be through._

Harry stood in the middle of a small room on the third floor. It was the most private place he had been able to find, as far too many used the girls toilet on the second floor, these days. It had become a very popular place after Harry's second year.

Glancing at his watch, Harry noted that it was quarter past eleven. It would take ten minutes to bring the potion properly to heat, and then a further twenty to cool it to the temperature that it was meant to be drinkable at. If the potion was to hot, or to cold it would taste bitter and Harry wanted things to be as easy as possible.

That would take him till quarter to twelve. Then all Harry had to do was maintain the temperature until midnight.

At exactly twelve o'clock he was going to do it.

_Hold on, hold on._

When Severus got to Lupin's office he was gasping for breath.

Instantly the werewolf was on his feet, looking concerned, "What's wrong, Severus? The last time I saw you so pale was during my third year."

"That Bell-snare root I asked you to look after, so that it was separate from the rest of my stock, " Severus said in between drawing huge lung fulls of air, "Have you still got all of it?"

"Well, its a funny thing you should ask that, " Lupin commented as he began making his way over to a cupboard in the corner.

"No, I don't want it," Severus said, raising his hand, "I just want to know if its still all there."

Lupin paused, "About half of it went missing, probably a week ago."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Severus muttered mainly to himself, going pale at the same time. Then he looked at Lupin, "Some of my things are missing. Judging by the missing stock, I believe that there is a student in the school that is attempting to kill themselves. I want you to search to the left of the Great Hall, and I'll take the right. Be as quick as you can, and not a word to anyone."

"And if I find a potion, but with no-one near it?"

"Then bring it directly to my office, so that I can get rid of it safely."

_I told him I'm in no hurry, but if I broke her heart then won't you tell her I'm sorry.  
And for once in my life I'm alone.  
And I got to let her know, just in time before I go.  
I just got to get a message to you._

One of the main reasons Harry had put this off for so long was Ginny. He was well aware that his death would break her heart.

Harry had spent the last week privately saying goodbye to everyone, knowing that this moment was inevitable.

Harry felt the tears that had been threatening ever since he realized the truth, prickle behind his eyelids, and this time he let them fall.

Hell, it was about time he allowed himself some liberties. After all, in forty minutes or so he was going to be dead.

More than anything else Harry wished he had someone at his side rather than face this alone, but Harry knew that if he had told anyone they would have done everything possible to prevent it.

No. In the end this was the way it had to be.

_Hold on, hold on._

In all of ten minutes Severus had thoroughly searched his half of the first floor. It was amazing what the fingers of panic could do for someone.

Severus knew from what he had read years ago, after making a very foolish mistake, that a potion of painless death worked best at midnight. That was what he thought was being mixed.

Even if this new brewer didn't know the time frame, midnight would seem like a reasonable time to take it. The moment the new day was born.

Which meant, Severus thought looking at his watch, that he had all of thirty-five minutes to find whoever was singing his or her own death warrant.

_One more hour and my life will be through._

Harry took the cauldron off of the flame he had conjured.

His tears had subsided a minute ago and all Harry could feel now was a deep sense of relief at finally being in the final stage. Not just of his life, but of everything.

No one could deter him now.

_Hold on, hold on._

Severus hit the stairs running, at the same time as Lupin.

"Same deal on the next level?" The werewolf asked, struggling to keep his breath under control.

"Yes," Severus said sharply, not wanting to waist precious time on useless words.

Not when someone's life would be the forfeit if the time ran out.

_Well I laugh, but that didn't hurt.  
And its only her love that keeps me wearing this dirt.  
Now I'm crying, but deep down inside, well I did it to him.  
Now its my turn to die._

If it hadn't been for Ginny, Harry knew he would have done this the moment he realized. And if truth were to be told, he had realized the moment he had taken Voldemort's life.

Ever since the final knowledge had been confirmed by a voice whispering darkly in the back of his mind Harry had felt dirty.

But that, he supposed, would be the natural reaction of anyone that had found out what he had.

_I just got to get a message to you._

Once again, Harry felt tears welling up.

Sighing, he glanced down at his watch. Only half an hour to go.

Harry fell back into pacing and a single thought echoed through his mind. _'I love you, Ginny.'_

_Hold on, hold on._

The search of the second floor took another ten-minute bite out of the time to go till midnight.

Severus was painfully aware that there was only twenty minutes to go because climbing the stairs (both he and Lupin were now on the third floor) had taken all of five minutes.

Lupin, to Severus's great relief, was working at the same pace as he was. However, now that time was so close it was time for a new plan of action.

"Lupin, take the fourth floor and every second floor after that."

The werewolf knew there wasn't enough time to argue, but instead continued up the stairs.

Severus set off at a determined run along the corridor.

_One more hour and my life will be through._

Even through his tears Harry was careful to keep an eye on the time.

It was quarter to twelve. All he had to do was keep the potion at this exact same temperature for the next fifteen minutes and then it would be over.

Harry chuckled bitterly as he pictured Snape standing over him, and imagined the old man's words, his harsh tone, _"A simply task, Potter. Even with a skull as thick as yours it should be possible."_

_Hold on, hold on._

Severus neared the final place on the third floor that he hadn't checked. It was a disused classroom.

There were only five minutes to go. If whoever had been mixing the potion wasn't on this floor or the next and they were planning on doing it tonight, then the only reason to find them would be that no student had to see another body. There had been more than enough death in the war as it was.

Severus tried the door and felt a rush of relief as he realized it was locked.

Drawing his wand, Severus blasted the door open. There, in the middle of the room, back to the door, stood Potter. A clear potion was in the goblet that the boy held, and Severus could see a small cauldron resting on the ground behind him.

As Harry turned to face the cause of the disturbance Severus saw wet streaks on Potter's cheeks, evidence of tears. Following them up he took notice of the boy's eyes for the first time in months.

"Oh, Merlin," Severus breathed. Those eyes that for so long had been green were still mostly Lily's, but now they were also flecked black. His black.

Obviously, something had come from the one time he had slept with Lily.

Severus wasn't good at showing worry. He never had been and this time it came out as anger, "What the hell are you doing, boy? Do you even know what that is in your hand?"

Harry winced and drew back, momentary fear flashing over his face. Severus was once again reminded of the rumours he had heard, but the moment passed and Potter met his eye.

"I'm well aware what I've got," Harry said, answering Severus's second question first. Then, in reply to the second question, "I'm doing what has to be done. I'm ending the war. Its not like anyone needs me anymore, anyway."

"What do you mean by 'ending the war?' Severus asked, softening his tone. The last thing he wanted to do was push the child any further towards the point of no return. "The war was over when you killed the Dark Lord. And as for that 'no on needs me' crap, I can name one person that has just realized they do. There are also your friends. They will most assuredly kill you if you go through with this."

Harry chuckled at Severus's choice of words before glancing at his watch. Three minutes to midnight, "The war isn't over 'till I'm dead, Snape. When Voldemort failed to kill me, something worse happened. Ever heard the word, Horcrux?"

Snape nodded, understanding dawning on his face, "And you are..."

"Yes. Your turn." He chuckle grimly. "Quid Pro Quo, Agent Snape. Who is it that has realized they need me?"

While he was puzzled over the boy's words, he didn't let that tiny thing give him falter.

"Your father."

Confusion appeared on Harry's face, "But my father's..."

"Dead?" Severus finished Harry's sentence, "Looked at yourself in the mirror lately?" he said gesturing just behind Harry, "You'll see what I mean."

Harry did so, and after a few moments he saw what Severus had.

A fresh wave of sobbing overcame Harry and in that moment his resolve broke. Harry flung the goblet to one side where it shattered against the wall. Colourless potion ran down the stonework, pooling on the ground.

Harry dropped to his knees, crying harder then ever. The only difference was that this time a strong pair of hands wrapped around his shoulders, comforting him.

A voice was muttering softly in Harry's ear, seeking to calm him just as much as the arms were, "It'll all be fine. We'll get through this, together. There will be another way."

"Promise?" Harry asked in a trembling voice.

"Promise," Severus replied. Then he held Harry, his son, 'till the boys sobbing subsided.

Before Severus vanished the potion he inspected it, "This seems to have been rather well made, for once. I ought to congratulate you," he said, dryly.

Lupin made his way back to his office, hoping beyond hope that Severus had found whomever it was before it had been too late. What he didn't expect was to find a satisfied looking Severus, with a hand resting protectively on the shoulder of one Harry Potter waiting just outside his office door.

"Crises averted," the Potions Master said, tipping the werewolf a wink, "Now if you don't mind I think I'll be getting Harry of to bed."


	2. Chapter 2: The thing and the explanation

**The Thing And The Explanation**

Severus groaned and rolled over, rubbing his temples with his right hand as he did so. It was some time after four in the morning, and he hadn't even been able to shut his eyes for longer than ten seconds, let alone fall asleep.

The ticking of the clock seemed to sound louder, mocking the time he was wasting. Severus squeezed his eyes shut so that he wouldn't be tempted to see just how far after four it actually was. One thing was for sure; there wasn't enough time to sleep off a bottle of whiskey, which was quite possibly, the only way he would have gotten any rest tonight.

Severus knew a fair bit about Horcrux having studied them for Advanced DADA, but even with the knowledge he had accumulated the fact that Harry was one was going to be more than a minor problem. And he was dreading the morning, with the answers that the boy was going to be demanding.

After resisting the urge to check the time for a further fifteen minutes (Severus felt he ought to be congratulated on this feat) he gave up. Rolling over, he sat up.

"Damn it," Severus snarled. It was now five-thirty. Even if he somehow managed to knock himself out, he was just going to have to get up again at six. Totally not worth it. Muttering under his breath, he made a mental note to seek out and strangle Mrs Norris. It'd cause less trouble than killing a student.

Rising from the bed Severus pulled on his robes and stalked along the dark, twisting maze of passages that made up the dungeons of Hogwarts, coming to pause in an equally dark library. Raising his wand he muttered "Lumos," and began to scan the book titles in the restricted section, marking those that he thought might be of some use.

After picking out seven or so (Which was seven more than had been there when he was a student) Severus pulled the first one off the shelf, a handsome leather-bound volume called The Dark Magics Of Immortality, and sat himself down on a couch to scan the index. There was, unsurprisingly, no mention of Horcruxes in that one, nor was there in any of the other three that he had time to check before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

When Severus sat down at the staff table, his eyes automatically swept the mass of students spread throughout the Great Hall. A small flutter stirred in his chest. Potter was nowhere among the chattering, laughing groups. He doubted the boy would be foolish enough to try anything so soon, but still . . .

Fortunately though, for Severus's peace of mind, Hermione was in his first period class.

Unfortunately for the rest of the class, lack of sleep had put their potions master in a particularly frightful mood. Just twenty minutes into period, one cauldron had melted, one had exploded, two of the potions were spitting sparks and one had just reached the consistency of quickset cement.

By the end of period only Miss Granger's potion was actually doing what it was meant to be (surprise, surprise). As everyone filed out of the room looking defeated or annoyed, Severus called out over the chatter:

"Miss Granger, can you come here please?"

Looking more than a little apprehensive, Hermione cut through the flow of students and made her way up to Severus's desk.

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"Would you quite possibly be able to tell me what Mr Potter is doing, that is more important than coming to class?"

"I tried to wake him up sir, but he wouldn't stop snoring."

"Well in that case do me a favour and when Mr Potter finally decides it is time to rejoin us in the land of the living, let him know that he has detention tonight at seven in my office."

"Yes, Sir."

Ananananananaananananananaananananananananaananananananananananananan

Harry may have been sleeping when Hermione left (or putting on a very impressive act) but he most certainly was not any more. Instead he was furiously pacing the length of the Gryffindor common room.

_Why did I let him stop me? What right does he have to interfere with my life? What on earth drove him to find me?_ But none of these questions were the main issue. None of these were the thing he was trying to keep from thinking of. And everyone knows that when you try not to think of something you can't keep it out of your mind. So, that inevitable thought crept from the dark corners of Harry's mind. _What gave him the right to sleep with my mother?_

Tears of fury were threatening to spill over but there was no way Harry was going to let them. Biting back a scream of frustration he spun and drove his fist into a defenceless cushion. Then he slumped into a chair and yawned widely. Severus wasn't the only one who had had a restless night.

Harry hated the thought of Snape being his blood relative. Over the past year he had become distantly fond of the older man. Not, perhaps, to the point of friendship but certainly not far below it. Last night had, however, undone everything.

Drawing a deep breath Harry forced himself to hold it, willing his frantic heart rate to slow. If this kept up, it wouldn't matter whether he was a Horcrux or not. Instead of him taking over he was going to be flat on his back from a heart attack.

After a few moments Harry got himself back under control to the point where he was capable of rational thoughts. Thoughts, like the fact that procrastinating wasn't going to get his homework, which had been due two days ago, done. And nor was it going to stop the thing he was carrying from showing itself. Harry had managed to find out enough to work out that it would fully be in control within three to five months of its creator's death, maybe sooner.

Drawing out his copy of Advanced Potion Making, he flipped through to the section on Binding Potions. He would have mixed one up before, but he wasn't sure of the exact effect it would have. Some people said they bound a person's magic to them, others that they bound a person's magic so it couldn't be used, period, and yet even more people thought they bound only a certain aspect of a person's magic. Well, whatever they did, the book's original owner had felt the potion had more than a few mistakes. This page was one of the most corrected in the entire book.

Harry spent the first part of the day puzzling out the ingredients and copying out the corrected version of the potion into the back of a diary he had recently started to keep. Then he flipped through to the front and as a means of stress-relief, began to write out the events of yesterday. He didn't notice until three sentences later how his handwriting had changed, becoming more graceful, as though it belonged to an adult.

By the time Hermione came into the common room after her last class, Harry had filled eight pages with writing, and it was miniscule. First she tried waving a hand under Harry's nose then she tried shaking him by the shoulders. When that didn't work she lightly slapped Harry across the face.

Harry rose to his feet, eyes glowing scarlet. He seemed to tower over everything. A cold fury twisted his face into an unrecognizable mask and seemed to radiate from the very core of his being. Hermione tripped over backwards in her quest to put distance between herself and the person who was meant to be her best friend. She fell heavily, striking her head on the stone hearth of the fireplace.

As quickly as the fury rose up it had vanished, to be replaced by a serious concern for the welfare of his best friend. Moving quickly, Harry grabbed Hermione under the arms and dragged her back to the couch. With a fair bit of effort he managed to pull her up on to it. The he drew his wand and cast a weak memory charm that would erase the last five minutes, before wakening her up.

Slowly Hermione opened her eyes and raised her hand to her head, wincing.

"What happened Harry? I can remember coming up the stairs and then . . .then its all a big blur of nothing."

"You just came in and collapsed," Harry said, grateful for the easiness with which the lie sprang to his lips. "You hit your head pretty hard on the way down."

Hermione sat forward and rose shakily to her feet. Harry lent over, making sure the bump didn't look too bad.

"Damn," he muttered.

"What?"

"It's bleeding. You should really get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at it."

Nodding, Hermione made her way over to the door. Pausing on the threshold, she turned back.

"Professor Snape asked me to let you know that you have detention tonight at seven, in his office."

Harry bit his tongue until Hermione was out of earshot. Then he let rip with a series of curses that would have made Bellatrix think twice about coming within 10 feet. By the time he was finished, the cushion which he had been intent upon destroying resembled an odd cross between a flobberworm, and a toad with burnt warts, and acne that made Hermione's jinx last year look like the world's best makeup job. Harry felt a lot better.

Ananananananaananananananaananananananananaanananananananananananana

Severus paced the length of his office. He wasn't sure if he was annoyed, nervous or glad to be seeing Harry so soon after last night. One thing he did know was that he owed Harry an explanation.

If the amount of time between Miss Granger going up the stairs, and then coming back down to the hospital wing was anything to go by, then Harry wasn't impressed.

Harry knocked on the office door at exactly seven o'clock, and Severus found himself admiring the boy's punctuality.

"Come in."

The door pushed open and Harry came in with something gripped tightly in his hand. Severus lent over for a closer inspection and wound up pulling back rather quickly with a wrinkled nose, pulling a face. The thing smelt like a mixtures of old gym socks and ripe compost,

"If you don't mind me asking, what in Merlin's name is that?"

Harry shrugged and dropped it onto Severus's desk.

"No idea. Used to be a pillow before it was mutilated by magic."

Severus reached for the thing but it squeaked and began wriggling around the desk in a fruitless attempt at escaping. Its movements remind him of a balloon filled with water, which was also what it felt like.

"This monstrosity is alive?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in Harry's direction.

"I think so. I doubt it's very intelligent, though."

At that particular moment the thing's lease on life ran out and it exploded over Severus in a dramatic burst of a viscous green substance. Severus was grateful he didn't know what it was, since it had plastered itself over his face in an ugly green mask. It had also given his desk a fresh coat of paint.

"Remind me never to piss you off again. I have no wish to wind up looking like that," Severus said, drawing his wand. It took ever ounce of his self-control to ignore Harry's sniggering. Waving his wand he cast a cleaning charm, before gesturing to a chair.

"Take a seat."

Still sniggering, Harry lowered himself into the chair.

"So what did you want to see me about, Professor?"

"While you were snoring . . ."

"For all of forty-five minutes," Harry cut in.

"I was thinking," Severus continued, ignoring the interruption that took even more control than ignoring Harry's laughter had. "That at the very least, I owe you an explanation. But before we get into that, have you eaten today?"

"No."

Severus flicked his wand and a plate with bacon and egg sandwiches appeared before them. Harry dove into them with a vengeance.

"That memory you saw in the Pensive, back when I was trying to teach you Occlumency was only a very small part of the story. James hated me, that much was true, but what passed between your mother and myself was a much-practiced act. She and I were rather close as friends."

Harry cleared his throat as though he was going to say something. Severus paused, but when Harry didn't, he picked up the flow as though nothing had happened.

"Several years into the marriage and James and your mother hadn't had much luck. One night she came to me saying she though that she was pregnant but wanted to make sure. By that time I had grown to love her, and there was no way I could refuse her anything. Afterwards, we cast an incredibly powerful Illusionist charm, having agreed that we would be better off not knowing. Not even Lily knew whether it was James or myself."

Severus fell silent as an unreadable expression crossed Harry's face. The boy drew a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes, before nodding at Severus to continue.

"There's really nothing else to say. The reason your eyes have done what they have is because your natural magic has been magnified by what you are carrying. It partially counter-acted the spell we cast. There is no reason to think that any more of the spell will be thrown off."

"Thank you," Harry said, fighting to maintain a straight face as he rose to his feet.

"Hold on a second," Severus said, and reaching under his desk he drew out a small glass vial, "Its a concentrated sleeping potion, and the only thing taking the whole thing will do is knock you out for a week. A cap full should be sufficient to put you out for the night."

Harry pocketed the bottle, repeated his thanks and left the office, muscles trembling. When he got back to Gryffindor tower he collapsed onto his bed, trying unsuccessfully, to keep his tears to himself.


	3. Chapter 3: The Beginning of a Bond

**The Beginning of a Bond**

Three weeks had passed since Harry's conversation with Snape and the tension between them hadn't lessened in the slightest. Harry had taken to the old stand-by of ignoring the man. He didn't have the slightest idea how much time he was giving up for him, and at the rate things were going he probably never would.

Snape had almost exhausted the resources in the library in spite of its size. Everything he had found, it went without saying, had been entirely useless.

None of the charms Harry had cast over his eyes had held. Not that he had expected them to. He was just grateful that it was such a small thing that almost no one had noticed. He'd passed it off as wearing a pair of contacts, and the excuse had worked because his eyesight had come right.

But even with that one good thing, everything else seemed to be going wrong, in some way or another. As a result he had constantly been on edge. He seemed to have landed more detentions in the past three weeks than he had all of last year, and that was saying something.

This morning Harry had potions first period. As he made his way through the twisting passages, which lead to the dungeons someone's elbow caught his in the stomach on their way past and knocked the breath out of him.

Without so much as a seconds pause he took off down the corridor, in pursuit of the idiot that had dared lay so much as a finger on him. Rounding a corner he got a proper look at the back of his fleeing target, and was not at all surprised to find that he had blond hair.

Malfoy, it seemed, had been particularly determined to rub Harry the wrong way, especially over the last week. He was the cause of at least two thirds of the detentions Harry had been slapped with.

Furry may have given him wings, but arrogance meant that Draco was always half way off the ground, suspended over all of the schools common attendance. Well, at least in his own opinion. Harry's feet moved at top speed, but he didn't catch the blond until just outside the potions lab.

Putting one hand in front of him, he slammed the blond up against the wall. With his other hand he grabbed his wand from in his pocket, and drawing it pressed it hard against the side of Draco's throat.

The blonds Adams Apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, but his voice didn't hold the slightest hint of fear, "Go on Potter, do it. I know you'd love to see me plastered all over the floor."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Harry was sounding more than a little pissed, "An end to your worthless life and with your dieing breath you get me expelled," Harry narrowed his green and black eyes, "So tempting."

His grasp tightened on the wand, but before he could say any of the spells that he had in mind a hand came down and clamped onto his shoulder. The one voice that Harry had been hoping beyond hope he wasn't going to hear spoke up, "Well, well boys. We wouldn't be fighting in the corridor would we? And outside my very own classroom, no less."

After a few very tense seconds Harry lowered his wand and turned to face the speaker. His eyes searched out Professor Snape's, and locked on them. These days there was an almost hypnotic quality about them, "No sir. I was just showing Draco the spell I learnt in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was having trouble getting it to work, see?"

Snape felt a tiny flash of pride for the speed at which Harry was capable of thinking, "Very thoughtful of you Potter, but the rules quite clearly state that no magic is to be used in the corridors between classes. You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes sir," both the boys chorused. Snape unlocked the door to the potions lab and slipped inside leaving them to finish sorting out their problem. He was pretty certain they weren't going to kill each other, knowing how close he was.

Harry turned his full attention back to Malfoy, "You'd better watch yourself because next time, I swear I'll do it. Its just your luck that Snape was around to save your pathetic ass today, because next time I'm not holding back."

Draco regarded Harry coldly, but didn't reply. He just turned, and raising his arrogant nose into the air stalked into the potions lab behind Snape. Harry fiercely resisted the urge to use it for target practise.

Then he spent the next half a minute fighting to get his breathing under control. In that time Hermione finally caught up, not that it looked like she'd been putting much effort into the chase.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Just fine," Harry muttered, stepping through to the potions lab beside her. She gathered everything they'd prepared last time and sat down at their usual table. The rest of the class began to file in around him.

Snape looked up from his desk, "Bee seated Mr Potter. You work would be of a far better quality, were you actually doing something."

He nodded, "Yes sir" Harry lowered himself into the seat beside Hermione and after scanning the method on the board began to finely dice the shrivelled remnants of a flobberworm.

Draco rose from his seat and Harry's eyes narrowed at the blond, tracking him. At the front of the class he bent over and whispered something to Professor Snape, who nodded before drawing out a stack of essays and turning his attention to them. Draco turned and headed back to his seat, pausing at Harry's desk.

Then, before anyone could so much as look up, let alone do anything to stop it Draco struck Harry across the shoulder. Harry rose and rested his hand on Draco's arm. Energy surged through Harry and a flash of light half-blinded everyone in the class. Draco was thrown back and struck the wall with a force that made Snape wince.

As soon as he could see properly Snape made his way over to Draco. The blond seemed a little dazed, but aside from that he was fine. He helped the boy back to his feet, "My office. Now. And don't bother about getting your things."

Then he turned to Harry, who visibly swallowed.

"Head through to my office as well, Mr Potter. And whatever you do, make sure you do not kill Draco."

"Sorry, Herm," Harry muttered softly before leaving the class with his head lowered. In Snape's office he dragged a chair as far away from Draco as possible. The other teen looked cool and confident.

He shot Harry a look and a cocky grin that he just wanted to tear off that smug face, "Better pack your bags, Potter."

Harry returned Draco's look with a glare that would have been able to peel paint, but didn't reply. It wouldn't do him any good to make the situation any worse than it already was. Snape may be his father, but he couldn't see the man defending him. Experience had taught him not to expect much from blood.

So, Harry got the shock of his life when Snape came in and seated himself behind his desk, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Are you alright Harry?"

The boy looked at him, "Me?"

"Yes, you. I believe that is your name. Sometimes when magic surges like that it can cause more harm to the caster than to the…" Snape looked at Draco and caught himself before calling the blond a victim, "…target."

"He attacked me and you're asking him if he's okay?"

Harry wished he could take a photo of the expression on Draco's face. It was even more memorial than after the ferret incident, and Draco still went red when that was brought up, "Yes, I'm fine, Professor Snape. Fine as I ever can be."

"Good," Snape muttered softly, before looking at Draco, "Now, as punishment…"

Draco lent forward in his seat, anticipation on his arrogant face. Harry tensed himself, dread rising in his chest.

"I think, one week's detention to be served with Filtch for an unprovoked attack on another student ought to do it, Draco, and maybe you'll think twice about getting in over your head next time. If you do so, Merlin help me, I swear I'll indulge and let you have it out with Mr Potter."

Once again Harry pinned the fact that he didn't have a camera. But if Draco had gotten into that much trouble…

Harry winced, "And me, sir?"

"Are very lucky you didn't hurt yourself or Mr Malfoy. If you had you would be on detention with him," Snape's eyes rested on Draco, "You can go to your next class now. And it would be in your best interest to hurry. I'm not going to cover for you if you wind up late."

Harry could almost see the steam rising from the blonde's ears as he stood up, knocking the chair on to its back, and stormed out. Harry rose to follow him, but Snape shook his head, so he simply picked up the chair and sat back down.

"You seem rather surprised," Snape prompted when he was sure Draco was out of earshot.

"Surprised isn't the word for it," Harry admitted, almost reluctantly, "When we…err, I reacted like that I thought you were going to kill me or something."

"A smile tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth for a few seconds, "Haven't you realised I'm far more subtle then that? To murder you right then and there would have attracted far too much attention, and probably a long-term stay in Azkaban. Both are things I would prefer to avoid."

"Oh," Harry felt his heart drop a few inches in his chest. _How'd I ever fool myself into thinking that Snape could actually care for me?_ He hated himself for trusting an illusion.

Obviously, it had showed on his face because all traces of humour dissolved for the man's face, "You don't have much faith in adults, do you?"

"Why should I?" Harry's voice came out as a bitter snarl, raw with emotion that he'd been trying to keep a cap on for the past several years, "What with the way my damn, so-called relatives treated me ever since I landed on their doorstep. And you haven't given me much of a reason to trust you, either."

"Your relatives?" Snape raised his eyebrows. His voice was soft and deadly. Harry mentally slapped himself for letting anything slip. It was a mistake even bigger than trusting Snape had been, in his opinion.

"Doesn't matter," Harry shrugged, "Its nothing. Nothing at all. Its more of a nothing than the bottom of a black hole."

"Translation. It dose matter and it is something," Snape said gently, "People tend not to babble off at a thousand miles a second to cover nothing. And it would save a lot of time and hassle, were you to tell me about your something without further persuasion."

Harry turned away so that he wouldn't have to look Snape in the face, "You want to know what it was like for me, that much?" he snarled.

Snape nodded.

The boy's voice dropped, "I was called a freak pretty much from day one. Anything that went wrong was my fault; all of my clothes were hand-me-downs, at least three sizes too large. My cousin Dudley and his gang beat me up whenever they could find the time, but it was ignored, because he would never so much as harm a fly," he laughed bitterly, "Guess I wasn't as important as one."

There was a pause of a few seconds and Snape opened his mouth, but Harry blundered on, oblivious.

"There were three bedrooms, but I was made to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven. Didn't even…"

Snape raised a hand. It was all he could do to stop himself from Apperating to Privet Drive, bugger the wards around the castle, and tearing the boy's _caregivers_ into a thousand tiny pieces, courtesy of the most painful curses he could think of. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this.

"You were the one that wanted to know," Harry muttered. His head bowed and he looked tired. Defeated in a way. Then he looked back up and his eyes hardened. He may never earn Snape's respect, but there was no way he was going to let the man know it actually mattered to him.

Snape saw the change in the boy's eyes, and heard the difference in his voice the next time he spoke. The tone was darker, uncaring.

"He's right, you know. Muggles are dogs that will never understand our kind, and deserve nothing more than to spend the rest of their pathetic lives grovelling at our feet. They're mangy, flee-bitten curs."

A man less brave than Snape would slowly be backing out of the office. No one had ever dared argue with the dark lord when he had spoken like this (well, truth be said, no-one had ever dared argue with him at all if they had valued their life) and Potter was sounding exactly like him. It was a very real reminder of how short time was growing.

"Harry, listen to yourself. This isn't you. You are being influenced by him, and you have to fight it," It was a very real effort for Snape to keep the quiver out of his voice.

A high, cold laugh chilled Snape through to his core, "Yes, this is me. Loath as I am to agree with him he's been saying it again and again since his body was destroyed, and I know from personal experience that its true. It may not be a side of me that gets out very often, but I'm still the same person."

Harry rose to leave, but Snape caught his arm. He fought the urge to wince as a small surge of energy made him let go, just as quickly, "Sit back down," he snapped in a voice far harsher than had been his intention.

"No thank you," Harry's voice dropped a couple of octaves. It had that same deadly quiet that Snape's developed, before he struck out. With what had happened to Draco fresh in his mind Snape didn't want to risk pushing the point.

"I know I haven't given you much reason to trust me in the past, but I want to help you, and I'll be damned if I'm going to see you fall. I've talked to Albus. Those nightmares you were having have worked ito our advantage."

Harry didn't seem to be able to understand the obscure language Snape was speaking, "What have my dreams got to do with anything?"

"Apparently, you threw Mr Weasley across the other side of the room."

"There's no apparently about it," Harry was sounding more than a little frustrated, "He was given a free flying lesson, not that its any of your business. It was nothing to what I could have done,"

Snape watched as Harry's eyes widened slightly. He was finally conscious of hearing the words coming out of his mouth, and not having said them.

It was what encouraged him to get the next bit over and done with, "In the possible event of another nightmare, I convinced Albus that it would be in the best interest of both yourself and your dorm-mates, were you to sleep in your own private room," Snape had heard the Muggle expression _'like looking down the barrel of a fully loaded gun' _and scoffed at it. He now knew what it felt like.

Total silence blanketed the office for a few seconds. Then a slight crackling made Snape swear as he felt the wave of the energy building up, courtesy of Harry. The hair on the back of his neck was slowly standing up. The energy, which was growing around Harry, was black. Snape said a silent curse. The last time he had ever witnessed some one shrouding him or herself with dark energy that someone had been the Dark Lord himself.

The black strengthened and darkened, in a way solidifying its self. It spread out and encircled the teen, cocooning him. A fly buzzed its idiotic way into the wall of the cocoon. Snape didn't at all envy it. Then, as though the bug had been some kind of a signal the energy field dissolved.

It wasn't the category five explosion that Snape had been preparing himself for. All that happened was that it slowly faded out, and his standing hair settled back down. What Snape saw afterwards however, stirred dread in his heart.

Another part of the spell he and Lily had so carefully woven was gone. Harry's hair, which had only moments ago been short, uncontrollable and raven, was now very well controlled. It also came down to his shoulders and was jet black, with a few streaks of red.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, turning once again to leave. He obviously hadn't realised anything was different, "I guess you're right. That wasn't like me at all."

"Harry..." Snape's hand went out, but he stopped a few inches shy of actually touching the boys exposed flesh. No way was he going to risk making contact after the last time.

Harry's head turned back and some of his newly lengthened hair swung in front of his eyes. He froze for a few seconds, before grabbing around half of his hair, and flicking it in front of his eyes.

"Damn it," he said. The words may have been a curse, but there was no strength in them. Then his eyes rested on Snape's, "Do I really want to know the damage I've just done?"

"Probably not," Snape admitted, but he still drew his wand and conjured a mirror, which floated into the air at a perfect height for Harry to look into.

Harry turned his head from one side to the other. Then, to Snape absolute shock a tiny smile played over Harry's face, "Doesn't actually look too bad. Suits me better then what I had before, at least." he allowed, "At the rate things are going its probably better that I've got my own room."

Snape knew it was as close to a thank you as he was ever going to get at the moment, "Come back after last period, and I'll show you exactly where it is."


	4. Chapter 4: Accepting The Solution

**Accepting The Solution**

Snape slammed his book closed, and again glanced around the room he literally stumbled into. It was madness, but it made sense. Very frightening sense. And every book in here said the same thing. He had no idea how Harry was going to react to it, but it seemed that it was the only possibility, short of letting the boy go through with his original plan, to kill himself. And there was no way he was going to let that happen. This option may not offer much hope, but at least it offered more that that did. Then again, so would practically anything.

The cold fingers of dread groped inside his chest, as he rose, shaking his foot vigorously, in order to get rid of the pins and needles that had spread throughout his left leg in response to the awful position he'd been sitting in, and the length of time he'd been sitting for. A glance at his watch confirmed the reason his eyesight was blurring, and a headache was starting to pulse at his temples. He'd been pouring over the dozen or so books in here for the last seven hours.

Using a pain of fingers to massage at his temples, he grasped the book in his free hand and slipped out of the room, to make his way along the deathly silent second floor corridor. A faint grey pre-dawn light was lingering on the horizon. In moments like this Snape imagined that he could here the castles own slow, throbbing pulse. The thought was one that he found soothing, and he wasn't above being soothed at the moment.

Drawing his robes tighter around himself, he made his way down the two flights of stairs that lead to the dungeons, and struck a brick which was to the left of a portrait, showing a lion locked in battle with a unicorn on a distant, lonely mountain slope, with a solid blow. To the right of the portrait, the wall shimmered and a man-sized passage appeared, sloping sharply downwards.

He stepped into it and struck another, far more worn stone, which was just inside the entrance. Behind him the wall shimmered again, as it came back into existence. Over a decade of practice meant that he could navigate the pitch-black passage with perfect skill. He knew exactly how many steps it took for him to reach the place where it veered sharply to the right. And he also knew how many steps from the entrance it was to the spot where the passage started climbing again, before in ended in a sold, wooden door. The first couple of times he'd made this trip he had discovered just how solid the door really was.

He raised his free hand, to grasp the handle, and pulled firmly in order to open it, revealing what was actually quite a present room. The chains that the majority of the student body whispered hung from his walls were nothing more then a heavily embellished rumour. Not that he'd ever tried to discourage it. It was far easier to control a class of first-years if his cruelty was already legend. Instead, there was an overly large mirror, with an ornate frame of pure silver, designed to look like a large dragon. He was actually quite fond of dragons. His grandfather had had a pair of Chinese Fireballs, which he'd trained to guard his mansion. It was one of his best memories, at the age of five, being placed upon one of their backs.

A massive light green rug with silver edging sat in the centre of the floor. To one side of it was a three-seater leather couch, and on the other side was a pair of matching leather armchairs. A fire burned warmly in the grate, on the far side of the room and several torches were set at regular intervals along the wall, to provide light for reading. Two more doors lead off the left (his room and a bath-room) and one door lead off to the left. It was this door, which he stepped toward, and nudged open.

The he simply stood, lingering in the doorway. He had often wondered what it would be like were he to ever have a family, and this was the closest he was ever going to get. Silently he stared at the four-poster bed that graced the centre of this room, and the small figure, burrowed down under the covers on it. Sighing, he glanced down towards the book the book, which he still grasped in his hand, and tried to deal with the flair of protectiveness that he felt rising up within him. At the moment, Harry rolled over and blinked up at him, a tiny hint of smile spreading on his face.

"Wondered how long you could stay quiet for."

Snape felt a flush of embarrassment coming to his face, at being caught in a momentary moment of affection. Harry fortunately, knew enough not to comment on it any further. He knew how quickly a thoughtless word could ruin thing. Snape replied with his own tiny hint of smile.

"So," the boy continued, "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Snape rose an eyebrow, "That obvious, boy?"

"You've got that look in your eyes which say that the first person to screw up today is going to be told to take a long walk off a short plank."

He decided that since the boy hadn't commented, neither would he. He stood for a few moments, wondering what to do next. Finally he took a step back, "Breakfast?" He asked.

The boy nodded, looking grateful for the escape from a situation he surely wasn't used to, "Gimme five minutes and I'll be dressed and out."

Snape turned on his heel and left the room, being sure to make a show of it. He'd always had a flair for theatrics, ever since he was young. Once he was out of the bedroom, he used the five minutes to stash the book he'd taken from the second floor in his room, where it would be safe until he wanted it later on, and ordered breakfast to be bought from the kitchens via the fireplace. Toast, jam, and a jug of fresh strong coffee, which would be necessary to keep them both conscious, throughout the course of the day.

Severus had never been much of one for small talk while eating. It just wasn't him. Not in the slightest. So, when Harry emerged, dressed in his robes, with a pair of old, black jeans on underneath he didn't comment on it. And Harry didn't seem to have anything that he really wanted to talk about, either. He never seemed to talk in the mornings himself, these days. As they sat across the table from one another Snape wondered about the best way to broach the subject that they'd both been dancing around for the last three days.

Finally, as they finished and the dishes vanished back to the kitchens (room service was one of the perks of being a teacher, rather then a student) he decided to just out and show the boy, because the longer he avoided the subject the more likely he would be to keep finding excuses to put it off.

"Wait here," he said once the boy had finished with his own meal. His voice was soft, and that alone was enough to let him know that this was serious.

He settled back in his seat again, a feeling of nervousness enough to maintain the silence which had accompanied their meal. A few moments later Snape came back in with a thin leather-bound book grasped in one hand. Silently, with a grim expression on his face, he handed it over to the boy, whom turned it over in his hands, studying it. There was no title on the ancient, worn cover and it was only about the thickness of his little finger. A bookmark stuck out from the top of the pages at a point around three quarters of the way through the aged text.

Finally, he flicked it open to the bookmarked page, and squinted at the hand written pages, struggling with deciphering it for a few moments. The he picked up on a few letters, and started to read. The book appeared to be some kind of journal. Just that fact alone made him wary, as he could remember what happened the last time he dealt with a journal. He placed a finger on the page so he could keep track of his place, and read silently to himself.

_Tenth day of the Month of Janus, eighteen-seventy-six_

_In the course of my studies, which I have further extended, in spite of the many criticisms of my teacher, I have been able to discover that the Dementor, for all of its foulness was originally created to serve a true purpose. True, that purpose was a dark and twisted one, as would of course, be suspect of such a horrid fiend, but there was a reason for their existence none the less. The original Dementor, breed through selective care, from the beast known as the Lethifould, was created for the purpose of dislodging a Horcrux, which had become affixed, whether incidentally or otherwise, to the soul of a living magical being. They would extract the fragmented soul through the means of their dread kiss, but this was soon halted, as if it went wrong, the fragmented soul would have a new host with which to work through. Another reason which caused this practice to cease, came to pass in the early sixteen hundreds. With Muggle fear of magicks stirring to an all time high, the practice of creating Horcrux through which one could extend ones life was finally outlawed, as those in power were unsure of whom was truly whom. And even before that, the use of another magickal being as an avatar for Horcrux was classed as an unsafe practice._

The writing carried on, but by then Harry had read enough. He really didn't need to read any further into the history. It wasn't fear that he felt, or disbelief, or even anger. Instead it was a lethargic numbness, which was, if possible, even more dangerous. He knew though, that it was the only option, because Snape wouldn't have revealed it to him otherwise, and all of his own research hadn't turned anything else up either.

Above all else it was the Dementor that he feared the most, and the thought that if he wanted even the slightest shit-show of getting out of this predicament which he was in, of truly being free, he was going to have to let one of those horrid things...Well, it was just a lot easier for him to go into some form of emotional shut down, rather then think about it.

"Would have been easier if you'd just let me do it when I had the chance and the guts, huh?"

The words were spoken so softly that Snape was almost unsure if he'd actually heard them. But one look at the expression confirmed that he had. Not trusting himself to speak, he reached out and placed a stead hand on Harry's shoulder, simply shaking his head to brush the boys' words away as he did so. The action, the gesture, was a small one and it was all he could offer, but Harry felt a flair of gratitude towards the older man. Gratitude, and a feeling he though he would never associate with Severus Snape. Warmth, which bordered on the line of love.


	5. Chapter 5: Facing The Kiss

**Facing The Kiss.**

There were several powerful emotions, which were prevalent in the air that night, as Harry made the lengthy walk through the corridors towards the room where the few friends whom knew the hole truth were waiting.

There was fear. Not for himself, but for what he would be forced to face as he would make himself look into the Dementors cold, unseeing eyes. The last time he had truly faced one had been in his third year, and so much more had happened since then.

There was anticipation. Not the sick, empty anticipation, which he had experienced … had it really only been three months ago..? This time it was the anticipation of relief. What ever happened in that room today, one way or another it would be over and done with.

There was a hint of sorrow. If things went wrong, it wouldn't be him who was left suffering this time. Over the last little while he had come to develop a ready fondness for Snape. He had needed help, and the man had been there. He didn't want to think about what it would do to him, if it didn't work out.

In the short time that they'd had, they had burnt the midnight oil many a time, both opening up, and showing a little at a time to one another. And Harry was finally beginning to understand something which, truth be said, he ought to have realised a long time ago. Just because he hadn't been able to trust, because a few people had hated him it didn't mean that the entire world was like that. The thin bond between himself and Snape had been something good for the both of them.

He wasn't ready. He would never truly be ready. Not any more. But at least once it was done then it was done.

He hesitated outside the door, trying to swallow around a lump in his throat. _This is it…_

As he stood, staring, a warm hand sloped its self into his grasp, and squeezed briefly, offering a comfort that he would never have been comfortable with mere weeks ago. But now, he was grateful for it. He raised his head, moving his eyes from the heavy wooden door, to look into Snapes' black eyes, once again admiring the way the expression in them had changed from a cold one which reminded a person of the depths of a cold winter, to a humane warmth.

"Well," Snapes' voice was hesitant, and halting, "It would probably be foolish of me to ask if you were actually ready for this, yes?"

"No, si…," Harry caught himself just in time. Snape had put his foot down about being called Sir by his own child almost as soon as he had realised the family ties between them.

"No, not really." Harry began again, "And I appreciate that you would ask."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because…," Harry started, and then stopped, as he actually began thinking about it. There was no reason why he shouldn't expect Snape to show some concern. Not any more. The gaping chasm, which had divided them since Harry's first year of Hogwarts, was well and truly gone.

"No reason." He whispered.

Then, returning the pressure of Snapes' grasp, he lifted his free hand and pushed the door open.

There were only three people whose presence he had cleared, but even so, he had still been prepared for half the British wizarding population to have been crammed into that tiny room at the end of the hallway. It was entirely to his amazement, that the Ministry had actually kept to his request.

Three people, and one of those was at his side already.

Severus.

Reamus.

And of course the one person who had been faithful every step of the way. Albus.

One by one, he caught each of their eyes.

Ahh well. If thing were fucked up today then at least the Ministry would have one hell of a time covering things up.

With that thought, he amazed himself with a tiny, almost soundless chuckle.

Then he looked at the chair where, for safety, that of his own, and the others around him, he would be bound.

It was too much like the memories he had witnessed in the Pensive, and for a few moments he was seized with an almost overpowering desire to tear his hand free from his fathers, and simply run for it.

For a few seconds he almost succeeded in convincing himself that if he ran far enough, and fast enough, that everything would go back to the way it once had been.

And then there would be no danger any more. No risk.

That he would just go to sleep one night, and wake up the next day to find himself in his cupboard at the Dursleys, with Dudley jumping up and down on the stairs, and Petunia yelling at him to hurry up with breakfast, and everything that he had been through in the last seven years would have been a dream.

Snape caught his eye, and not for the first time Harry was struck by the uncanny sensation that the man could read his mind even before he had finished forming the thoughts.

He lowered himself into the chair, hating the way the chains instantly sprang to life, wrapping around his arms as though they had been infused with the spirits of wild snakes.

Snape took a few steps back, and locked his gaze with the boys' before he nodded.

"You were always right, you know."

"Huh?"

"I always had an extremely strong aptitude for empathy. Not just emotions, but thoughts as well."

At that Harry found his lips curving upwards into a tiny smile.

And then, a deathly chill flooded into the small room. Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds, before forcing himself to watch. It was even worse, not to know when it was going to reach him.

Snape shivered as a deathly chill stole into the room. It instantly put him into the mind of when he had been twenty-three, and held by those… those… things, as he'd awaited his trial on the charge of Willing service to the Dark Lord.

He'd hated every moment of it, and had done everything in his power since then, to avoid them. As had everyone, he'd supposed, that had ever been force to spend any amount of time among those monsters.

If their had been any other way out, then he would have jumped at it. He hadn't actually realised that the Dementor had been created for a purpose once upon a time. He'd always just figured that they had been the product of one hell of a magical accident.

And then, even as he stood thinking, the black robed shape drifted into the room, and he found himself looking at the creature which would be either Harry's' salvation, or alternately, his own undoing.

Everything weighed on what was going to happen here, now.

He wished, looking at the way that the boy, his son was shivering, that he could trade places with him. It had been so short a time, and yet already, he would rather endure the Kiss himself, then see the boy subjected to it.

He swallowed, as that black hood lowered towards Harry's' face, quickly obscuring it from view.

All of a sudden he couldn't help it. He took a couple of quick steps forwards, as though to tear the monster away, and it was only Lupine's light yet strong hand, which wouldn't be pushed aside, grasping his arm which prevented him. The werewolves' voice was soft.

"Hold fast, Severus."

"It's hard…"

He had never truly hated the werewolf. It had only been his fool friends who had lead him into danger. Just over a year ago, Lupine had finally had his chance to explain the full story of what had happened to Snape. And, for the first time in his life, he had listened.

"I know. But he's strong…"

The two lapsed back into silence. It almost felt like it were sacrilege to talk, with what was happening before them.

And something _was_ happening now. Where, before, there had been a total stillness up the front, there was now a wild, violent shaking.

And then, even though it felt like it had taken forever to get to this one particular moment, everything afterwards felt as though it ware happening at once.

The Dementor rocked back, as though as though a crow bar had been suddenly and violently forced between it and Harry. It rocked back, and crumpled in on it's self, like an empty Muggle Halloween costume.

Then, it tore apart, from inside its self, exploding outwards in a blinding burst of white light.

Snape saw the white light. And then, he felt something the likes of which he had never experienced before.

It was a feeling like everything was all right in the world. And, at that moment, he knew that it never would be again.

**OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH**

_There is a place, which exists outside of time and space, accessible only to the dead and the dieing, and a very rare few, whom are capable of transcending the barriers of time and space at the side of those who are leaving this world._

_It is known, among those few whom see it, and survive to tell the tale, as the Dravid erd Kramunt, if one wishes to refer to it in the old language of High Magick, or, in the common tongue, it is simply known as Final Farewell._

_For, it is here that a few lucky loved ones have a chance to say goodbye._

_It is not divided between those whom are magical, and those who are normal. It is accessible only to those whom are considered the best of the best. It has not been seen by anyone, magic of Muggle, in over three hundred years._

_But two, today, will come to know it._

**-Back in the Chamber-**

As the Dementor crumpled, the chains binding Harry down fell away, and he rose to his feet. His eyes, which had mere moments ago be a nervous green and black, were now totally burning scarlet, and as his body move towards the three people who had gathered, his feet hung centimetres above the stone ground, like a malevolent ghost.

One hand rose, and as it did, it began to shift and morph. The skin became deathly white, the fingers long and twisted.

_**-Dravid erd Kramunt-**_

_As the white light which had blinded Snape finally cleared, he found himself standing in the middle of a massive stone chamber. All around the sides were columns, much like what would have been found in an old Roman Colosseum, carved with blue runes which could never be read, because, as one looked at them they were already changing to form more words._

_A man whom he was hard pushed to see anything of Harry in stood before him, a smile of pure bliss on his face. Black-green eyes, which burnt with an inner fire. Thin, yet beautiful lips. Tall, and with black and red hair down to the small of his black. Skin, which was several shaded lighter than Harry's had ever been. _

_This was Harry as he was truly meant to be._

**-Back in the Chamber-**

Magic built up at those pointing fingertips, to deliver a blast which would have held sufficient power to tear the building around them in half. But before it had a chance to be released a blast of green light, from the only person whom hadn't been frozen in place struck the body of the boys chest.

The Dark Lord was now, finally, well and truly gone.

He looked towards where Snape had been standing, a heavy weight hanging in his chest.

Where Snape was no longer standing. He, too, was lying on floor.

He'd once thought that he would have been willing to do anything to rid the world of the Dark Lord for once and for all. But the price had been so damned high.

_**-Dravid erd Kramunt-**_

_The young man before him blinked his eyes, and Snape could see a deep set exhaustion in his features._

"_Harry?" Snape breathed the name, as though afraid that speaking would make this place dissolve around him._

"_I just wanted…," The boy cleared his throat, before he continued, "I just wanted to say thank you. For every kindness that you've shown me. For giving my heart a reason to beat. For giving my soul a reason to live."_

_Snape couldn't reply. _

"_I need to move on. And you need to go back. You need to tell them all not tom worry about me any more."_

"_But…" _

"_There are no buts. That's the way things are."_

_He felt arms, which were as solid as they had been in life wrap around his shoulders._

"_You still have a lot of work to do here. Truth said, I don't envy you," the boys tone was light, as though he no longer had a care in the world. And that, in a way, was the truth of it. _

_Not a care in the world, because he was free from the world._

"_I __**will **__see you again. Have no doubt about that."_

_A beautiful female which Harry had never met in living memory came into view at the top of the stairs._

"_Severus," she said, nodding warmly towards him, "I'll take things from here. You __**have**__ done well."_

"_Thank you Lilly," he said, as Harry drew away from him and mounted the stairs, pausing only at the top to glance back over his shoulder._

"_Goodbye, Dad."_

**OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH**

Severus woke, in a comfortable bed, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. For once in his life he knew that while things may not be easy, as such, they were finally going to be alright.

The struggle of the Boy Who Had Lived had finally come to an end.

**OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH****OMHOMEOMEOMEOMH**

_A.N I just wanted to say a masive thank-you to everyone who has joined me on this journey, and for all of the support and encoragement which you've given me. My first complete fanfiction story is at an end. Now, lets all party.  
_


End file.
